


Work of Art

by mozesandme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other, Parenthood, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozesandme/pseuds/mozesandme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holding those tiny hands in your big hands makes you realize how small he is compared to you. </p><p>A smile dawns on your face, noticing the way he puffs out his tiny little chest, red eyes noticeable behind those funny shades that he had taken a liking to.</p><p>He's a mini you,<br/>and for the first time it's scary in the most wonderful way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work of Art

It's dark, and you're lonely. 

You don't remember feeling this way before, that sickening hole that's emtpy. After he left you in the dust for the next girl in line, you had completely given up. You had finally opened up to someone once in your life and look where it got you. You never thought that he would come along though. 

He? You want to know who this he is? 

He, is the small pink tinted bean squirming in your arms as you clutch his tiny squirming body close. 

It's midnight and there's a baby in your arms, and it must look odd to people who pass by you on their way out of their rooms, but you don't care. 

You, Dirk Strider, just recently turned twenty three years old, and are holding a baby, who isn't even yours, in your arms, and you're crying like a little school girl. 

Crying about what? 

Maybe about the fact he was just left out in the street, like an unwanted puppy, maybe the fact he was screaming out for a mother who had abandoned him. Maybe you were crying for yourself, for the memories of growing up alone. 

Mostly though, you were crying for both of you....For the kid in your arms, and the broken man cradling him in his dirty blue blanket. And he cries right along with you, fist in his mouth as he sobs around it, and as you bury your face into the dirty blanket wrapped around his pinkish soft flesh. His face is red, probably matching your own in color, and for a moment he goes quiet, hiccuping with soft sniffles and whimpers, and he looks up at you with those odd colored eyes, just like your own, and you break even more inside when he pats the side of your face with his hand, as if to tell you it will all be alright. Though, you're sure he was honestly more interested in the small hairs on your chin. Letting out a spluttered laugh you cradle him even closer, not sure why you're still crying, but you are. Probably because you've been holding it in for so long. 

After that...You swore he would never see you cry again....

But you broke that promise, maybe not until later on, but you broke it none the less...


End file.
